A Tourist in the Waking World
by borgprincess
Summary: “Astonishing as it may seem, hysteria does not appear to be a successful cure for whatever ails Miss Granger.” A curse affects Hermione's mind- how does this influence her relationships with those around her? And what is Snape going to do about it?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Not mine. If it were, Snape would be alive.

A/N: First fic in Harry Potter!verse.

I've written this from Hermione's POV, which means it's subjective and may not necessarily reflect 'canon' but how I think she may perceive it. Doesn't necessarily reflect my beliefs, either. Just sayin'.

The separating breaks '**x:x:x**' indicate switches in time periods- from present day, where Hermione has been cursed, to some point in the past.

Chapter 1: Lost

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'…_**lost myself and I am nowhere to be found**_

_**Yeah, I think that I might break**_

_**Lost myself again, and I feel unsafe**_**…'**

- Sia, _Breathe Me_

---

When the curse hit her, the heartbeat as it took effect possessed a strange, dream-like quality. Time became fluid, stretching onwards in an endless moment, allowing her to grasp the full horror of what was about to befall her. She realized that she would survive this battle whole of body- but not whole of mind.

And the one thing Hermione prided herself on was her intelligence, above all else.

x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x

Of course she recognized the value of steadfast friendship and loyalty. But at the back of her mind lingered the specter of the tiny First Year, isolated and miserable, seeking solace in her studies to avoid the painful realization that nobody wanted to be around her.

Making friends with Harry and Ron, becoming part of a trio, was one of the best things that had ever happened to her- and, at times, the most painful. Over the years, during the few occasions when misunderstandings and conflict had torn her from her friends' side, she had suffered all the more for the bittersweet memories of _belonging_ somewhere, of knowing she was missed when she wasn't around and being assured of a warm welcome when she rejoined them. Having known the pleasure of true companionship, she couldn't bear to go back to the dreary solitude that had always been her lot in life, knowing what she'd lost. Once she had become accustomed to being one of three, readjusting to the sudden isolation when she was on the outs with them was agonizingly difficult.

And how unexpectedly this trio had formed- not, as many would suppose, during the adrenaline-fueled terror of the troll attack, but in the aftermath, in the more mundane surroundings of the Gryffindor common room, during an occasion no more ostentatious than dinner.

Hermione had harbored no expectations of the boys after their close encounter with the troll. But that evening in the packed common room, when they'd split off in opposite directions to try and pile some of the remaining food from the interrupted Hallowe'en feast on their plates before it was all gone, she had found herself facing off against Ron over the last sausage.

She paused a moment before she speared it, then waved her fork at him in an embarrassed invitation. "I'm sure you worked up an appetite, what with fighting off trolls and all."

Never one to hesitate when food was at stake, he immediately snagged it and took a huge bite as though he thought she might return to her usual argumentative self and seize it from his plate. There was an awkward silence where it seemed something more ought to be said, but neither had a clue how to carry on the conversation.

So Ron hid his discomfort with another mouthful of food and Hermione nodded and prepared to leave, but looking around, she'd seen all the chairs were taken and she hardly liked the idea of sitting on the floor in a corner like a pathetic wallflower. She wondered whether to swallow her pride and just take her dinner up to her room where she could at least pretend she wasn't such an outcast.

Harry had come up then, and seeing the two of them at a loss, he'd nudged Ron pointedly. The boy uttered an incoherent query and Harry tipped his head in her direction. With a pained look, Ron swallowed and then mumbled, "Look, Hermione, about- before." He cleared his throat. "What I said, er…"

The realization that he was trying to apologize dawned upon her. "Oh, that's- well, don't worry, it's forgotten. Besides, you more than made up for it, in my book."

He looked relieved that she'd read his intentions and saved him the need to stumble though any more expressions of remorse.

"By the way, I wanted to tell you- that was an impressive use of _Wingardium Leviosa_," she added. "The way you finally mastered it, especially under those circumstances…" she shuddered.

"Thanks," Ron said, pleased. "S'pose I had a good teacher." They grinned at each other. "Speaking of teachers, never would've thought I'd see the day that you, of all people, _lied_ to one."

"It was the least I could do, after the trouble you went to for my sake," she said modestly.

"They never even figured out that you made that story up on the spot," said Harry, shaking his head in admiration. "If I hadn't been there, I'd've bought it, too. But you do know that most people make up lies to get _out_ of trouble, not the other way round, right?"

"Oh, _bother_," she said with mock irritation. "I _knew_ I made a mistake there somewhere."

"I'll need to mark this date," Harry grinned. "The day I actually corrected Hermione Granger."

"I want to see you pull that off in class, now that would be something worth seeing," said Ron.

"Right," he nodded. "Don't ask for much, do you? I'd have better luck convincing _Snape_ to give me points for Gryffindor."

The sheer absurdity of that idea had the three bursting into laughter, and in the end, they'd all ended up sprawling on the floor together, reliving the high points of the evening, exchanging praise and teasing remarks. For the prim and serious child that Hermione had been, it was a real eye-opener.

That night, as she lay in bed, her thoughts were not preoccupied with the different spells and potions and magical trivia she usually mentally revised in her head til sleep claimed her, but with this unexpected turn of events. She had gone from being totally miserable and alone to acquiring an unexpected pair of companions for the evening.

And for keeps, it seemed, as she found the next morning when they beckoned her over at breakfast, scooting over to make room for her beside them. This small gesture was carelessly offered by the boys, never realizing what it meant to her to be counted as one of them. Prior to Hogwarts, she had never had anyone save a seat for her, as though she actually _mattered_.

A tendril of cautious hope had unfurled in her heart as she joined them, schooling her expression to appear placid and unruffled.

x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x

_The foundation of our friendship rests on mutual gratitude_, Hermione thought dazedly, as she lay sprawled on the ground, oblivious to the frantic activity all around her.

Gratitude that they'd defeated the troll before it harmed her.

Gratitude that she'd taken the blame and saved them from a scolding.

_(Oh, for the days when life had been so simple, so innocent)_

She'd been so eager to seize the opportunity to finally belong somewhere that she hadn't cared about the consequences.

Had it been worth it? The bouts of fighting, the anguish at being ostracized, her unreciprocated crush…measured against the comfort of having the boys at her side, the easy camaraderie, their affectionate acceptance of her quirks.

Yes, she rather thought so.

But if she had known of the war she would become personally embroiled in as a result of that friendship…if she had foreseen the struggle to stay alive, to defeat an evil wizard, to defend a wizarding world that unfairly laid the burden of its salvation on the shoulders of children…would she still have walked this path with them, or parted ways long ago?

That lonely First Year desperate for a scrap of positive attention- what price would she have willingly paid for friendship?

x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x

A/N 2: For all Hermione's bossy airs, she's definitely insecure.

_"Harry, you're a great wizard, you know."_

_"I'm not as good as you," said Harry, very embarrassed…_

_"Me!" said Hermione. "Books! And cleverness! There are more important things…"_

I happen to think she's wrong on that point. What's the point of the vaunted Gryffindor bravery without cleverness and cunning? But she seems to always put herself down in favor of Harry's perceived superiority, which puzzles me. I started writing this fic to try and work out the dynamics of the trio and Hermione's role in it, as well as the way she sees herself.

A/N 3: The original ending to this fic had her going insane, period. Then I wrote this other fic where everybody dies. And I realized- I can't take super angsty fics, what I am writing them for? So Snape will be along soon to fix things, never fear.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Not mine. If it were, Snape would be alive.

A/N: First fic in Harry Potter!verse.

I've written this from Hermione's POV, which means it's subjective and may not necessarily reflect 'canon' but how I think she may perceive it. Doesn't necessarily reflect my beliefs, either. Just sayin'.

The separating breaks '**x:x:x**' indicate switches in time periods- from present day, where Hermione has been cursed, to some point in the past.

Chapter 2: Be My Friend**  
**

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'…_**be my friend, hold me**_

_**Wrap me up, unfold me**_

_**I am small and needy**_**…'**

- Sia, _Breathe Me_

---

In the early days of her burgeoning friendship with Harry and Ron, even the simple pleasure of chattering away with them while walking to class had been a foreign thrill to her, erasing the pang of loneliness she had always felt before at struggling to appear aloofly engrossed in a book while other students socialized around her.

Of course, the honeymoon period inevitably came to an end. Being friends didn't make them ignorant of each other's flaws.

x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x

The boys found her unwilling to break rules anywhere near as regularly as they would have liked. The lie with which she had ingratiated herself with them had been the exception to her law-abiding nature (which held true with an iron-grip strength in matters that weren't life-and-death) rather than the rule.

"Come on, Hermione, you must know a spell to fix a Bludger so it'll go after one person in particular," Ron wheedled. "Haven't you come across it in one of your books by now…?"

Nursing his still sensitive, newly re-boned arm, Harry said darkly, "Doesn't matter how amazing his broom is, Malfoy's a hopeless flyer. Serve him right if-"

"Enough, the two of you! I'm not going to help you try to murder someone over a silly game!"

They turned identical injured looks to her.

"We were only joking, Hermione."

"Oi, what do you mean, just a 'silly game'?" Ron demanded.

"Can't you focus on something more important, for _once?_"

x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x

She, in turn, found it irritating that they depended on her so much to help with their school work yet refused to listen when she tried to explain it to them.

"Who cares about the werewolf essay?" Ron complained, another in a long litany of protests against being forced to do schoolwork.

Hermione gritted her teeth. "Professor Snape, obviously."

"But he was only filling in for Lupin, it's not even his class," Harry pointed out.

"Right, it can't be a _real_ assignment."

"He gave a topic, the required length and due date, Ron, how much more real can it get?" she said tersely, patience at an end.

If only he would just do it when he was first told, she wouldn't need to be so shrill all the time. Hermione wasn't blind, she saw the aggrieved, defiant looks he adopted by reflex the moment she mentioned schoolwork but she couldn't stop herself. Each time she vowed she was done looking out for his best interests, the criticism would rise up in her throat and spill helplessly from her lips, even though she knew it would just fuel another argument.

She didn't understand the bitter tang of disappointment she felt when he didn't meet her expectations. The last thing she wanted was to come across like Ron's mother, but she couldn't help wanting _more_ from him and feeling that he'd failed her personally when he didn't even _try_ to match her standards. His apathy fueled her determination to awaken some latent academic interest in him, and whingeing only increased her desire to keep his nose to the grindstone- because if Ron couldn't keep up with the easy subjects now, how was he going to cope with seventh year?

"Nobody else is doing that essay," he muttered resentfully, and that was the last straw.

"Like _you_ ever need an excuse to put off doing homework, Ronald. You can just forget about copying off me if you have second thoughts on Monday," she snapped, collecting her scattered notes and stalking off before she said anything she would later regret.

Hermione had made it her self-appointed task to educate the boys in areas where their knowledge was lacking, whether they thought they needed the lesson or not. She found it endlessly frustrating how easily distracted they were by games and other trivial things when she was only trying to help them for their own good.

And then later on, they'd beg her for answers to something they should've known already and she'd fight the temptation to tell them to defy tradition, crack open a textbook and find the answer on their own.

She never did, though. Hermione liked feeling needed, and found it gratifying when they hung on her every word (even if it was only because the essay was due later that same day).

But sometimes insecurity washed over her and she wondered if that might be the only reason they tolerated her presence, as a walking brain, a mere resource and nothing more. Was this simply a social transaction- their company for her knowledge? This niggling doubt made her more susceptible to their pleading faces and proffered parchments, made her stifle the reproach that trembled on her lips and rewrite essays in the nick of time.

"Good old Hermione," they cheered, and she smiled and ignored the inner voice that asked how they were ever going to learn anything if she did it all for them.

After all, what would she do if the worst came to pass and they somehow _failed_ and got held back a year? At least this way, she was indispensable to them, and she knew they valued her contribution. It was the only way she could be useful to them and it was an exchange she'd relied upon for too long to test what would happen now if she altered their terms of engagement.

x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x

But oh, the feeling of joy when they would occasionally run her to ground in the library, which had always been her sanctuary, insisting she needed sun and fresh air or she'd fade away.

"Come on, then," Ron insisted, "Obviously you need to get out more. Even your _hair's_ wilting."

"We definitely need to transplant you to a healthier environment," Harry said with a grin, as they proceeded to take her by each arm and tug her outside like a pair of gardeners wrestling with a stubborn Mandrake, heedless of her half-hearted protests.

She put up a show of reluctance each time but inwardly relished this sign of their affection for her. No agenda here except to rouse her from her academic stupor and give her a dose of human interaction.

Because of the simple fact that they _cared_, she had perhaps forgiven them too easily for the occasional hurtful slights and allowed them to smooth over any unpleasantness without properly apologizing.

But the happiness she found in their company (and perhaps the tiny panicked fluttering of fear that they wouldn't fight for her if she put their friendship to the test) negated any need to draw out reconciliation. She needed them, after all. No point playing games when the end result might be a crushing blow to her morale.

She also needed to feel worthy of them. Hermione might not be able to dissect the finer points of a Quidditch match with the enthusiasm of a dedicated sports fanatic, or simper and flatter with the coquettish attitude other girls her age seem to have mastered, but she could offer what none of their peers could ever hope to match.

If all else failed, she knew that the contributions of her meticulously honed intellect would guarantee her place at their side.

Without her to help mastermind their daring escapades throughout their school years or provide damage control when they could not be restrained from following some foolish course of action, she was convinced that by now, one or both of them would be dead or crippled or expelled (in order of decreasing importance). The boys possessed courage and determination in spades, but she knew the necessity of her cool logic, wealth of knowledge and good sense to counterbalance their reckless natures.

x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x

Which was why it was particularly galling for her to realize that she was about to lose the best asset she had to offer. As madness descended to wreak havoc upon her tidy, organized mind and she felt the bonds of lucidity and reason begin to unravel, she despaired.

What good was she to anyone now?

x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x

A/N 2: This came about as I was pondering the dynamics of the trio. I love the theory of a resilient, unswerving friendship, but the way the boys have treated Hermione at certain points as well as the sublimation of her own hidden insecurity made me see their relationship differently. I don't believe it was a conspiracy all along and they were just using her the whole time (I don't think they're that cold or clever), but it comes across that way a lot of times.

I found this very telling:

"_It was really lucky that Harry now had Hermione as a friend. He didn't know how he'd have got through all his homework without her…"_

JKR doesn't bother to show the first tentative moments of the relationship developing between the trio, dismissively referencing it in a throwaway line- _"from that moment on, Hermione Granger became their friend"_- and the first mention of her afterwards is her role in helping Harry complete his homework. Hmm.

A/N 3: Snape will appear in the next chapter. This is the first time I've managed to write a story about my ship where one member doesn't even appear in the first two chapters. It might be annoying, but I'm rather pleased with myself for being able to write characters outside my ship, so forgive my indulgence here.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. If it were, Snape would be alive. And that horror of an epilogue would never have come into existence.

A/N: First fic in Harry Potter!verse.

The separating breaks '**x:x:x**' indicate switches in time periods- from present day, where Hermione has been cursed, to some point in the past.

Chapter 3: Surfacing

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'…_**living in a deeper sleep, shallow dreams are turning me**_

_**What we hide, we'll breathe, in the end, you'll see**_

_**Pushing down what's deep inside, with right words, we hypnotize,**_

_**But feelings will arise, and you wonder why...'**_

- Candice Alley,_ Surfacing_

---

Professor Snape strode down the hall, leaving students scattered left and right in his wake. His expression was grim enough to strike fear into the most stalwart of hearts and his customary black robes billowed so strongly behind him that students whispered he was literally, honest-to-Merlin _flying_ through the corridors.

Whether or not one supported this outlandish notion, it was widely agreed upon that he hadn't looked this terrifyingly dangerous since he awoke, weakened but indisputably alive, after the Final Battle to berate the fact that he owed his continued existence amongst the living to Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. It wasn't certain whether his objection was to the identities of his saviors or the fact that he had survived at all but nobody had been brave enough to pose this question to his face (or even discuss the matter in the same building as him).

Coincidentally, sightings of both the objects of his perpetual ire at Hogwarts had been reported, and a morbid curiosity raced along the school's population like a crackling wild fire, wondering if this might be the moment the famous hostility between Snape and Potter exploded into direct conflict. And if so, opinion was split as to who would emerge victorious. (The Boy-Who-Lived had defeated the most evil wizard of their time, of course, but then, Severus Snape _had_ dispatched the most venerated wizard in generations)

Fortunately for the morale of the student body, Severus Snape was unaware of this line of speculation. The mere suggestion that he would not be able to squash the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Infuriate-Him like an insect and pickle his organs for display in the classroom was insulting enough for him to do something drastic, like dismiss the house-elves and enlist the students to take on all their duties _without _the use of magic, or perhaps cancel Quidditch for the foreseeable future. Depending on the extent of his fearsome rage, he might even be tempted to toss a few students off the Astronomy Tower and wait mere seconds before their imminent collision with the ground to halt their descent (if they were lucky).

However, torturing students was, oddly enough, not on Snape's mind at present. The frantic message from Ginny Weasley's Patronus was the source of the furious tension that gripped his body and cast his face in even sterner lines than usual.

"_Professor Snape, please come to the Hospital Wing right away! Hermione's been hit with a Dark curse and we don't know what's wrong or how to help her."_

His mouth tightened.

_Hermione Granger_.

Even after that damnable war was over, she was still a source of concern for him.

Even after she had bloody well _graduated_ from Hogwarts, she was _still_ an object of responsibility he was obligated to look after. Would it never end? It would probably be just his luck that she would succeed Minerva as Headmistress and then he'd be forced to deal with her as his employer, wouldn't _that_ be a treat?

Snape was honest enough with himself to admit that the way he reacted to the mere thought of Miss Granger (like a cat scalded by hot water) was out of proportion to the amount of trouble she caused, which was minimal, these days. She was no Harry Potter, not the combination of his hated childhood enemy and former sweetheart; she didn't represent his greatest regret and failure, the final nail on the coffin that contained his withered heart.

He couldn't loathe her, when she so willfully refused to give him just cause. Barring a history of animosity, saving his life was an act he could not repay with loathing, even if he had wondered a million times whether perishing on the floor of the Shrieking Shack might not have been a more fitting fate for him (infinitely more peaceful, at any rate).

Nor was he indifferent to her. At different stages, he had disliked and pitied her, he had oddly sympathized and yet been frustrated with her (and this was only the tip of the iceberg, though as far as he was willing to concede) but never had he felt indifference.

Which left him in a quandary. For years, Snape had fared just fine with an emotional scale whose spectrum ran almost solely between loathing and indifference, maintaining a delicate balance of each to greater or lesser degrees, depending on the people he was forced to interact with. The warmest sentiment he entertained was respect, and that was extended only to a handful of people. It definitely hampered his social skills and didn't win him any friends, but that hadn't greatly concerned him.

The harsh lessons of his..._unfortunate _childhood taught him that he could not afford trust. If the girl with whom he shared so much history- who had laughed and played with him; who had, against all odds, _cared_ for him- could turn away in disgust without bothering to give him a second chance, then how could anyone else find him worthy?

Perhaps as an adult, he could have overcome that self-defeating attitude (albeit by a minor miracle) but for the defining tragedy of his life that took place at Godric's Hollow the night that the Dark Lord was defeated. A great victory for the magical community, but at too high a price, he thought, paid in the blood of a loved one as a result of a terrible mistake, an unforgivable betrayal for which he could never atone.

After that, he could never have brought himself to invest in any meaningful relationships, no matter how lonely he might have felt on occasion, or how he wished he was the type of person that could reduce his misery by embracing fellowship rather than solitude. A preposterous notion. Even had he known how to go about seeking company rather than repelling it, the painful truth was that he had irrevocably forfeited that right.

It seemed that his lot in life was to remain alone and the cost of altering that fate was higher than the potential reward. Besides viewing it as a just punishment for his sins, Snape was also not willing to ever again risk his pride, his dignity and his _heart_, above all else, by daring to believe that another human being could come to see something of value in him. He had been burned too many times to willingly subject himself to that painful hope anymore.

So, after all these years, he was firmly set in his ways. He saw no reason to pretend to be any different from who he was, who he had been _forced_ to become, just because the war was over. To make that point perfectly clear, he had been extra moody and menacing at the start of the school year, just so that everyone was on the same page. The dunderheads in charge of the witches' trashy magazines might declare him a romantic hero, but Severus Snape was just as much a bastard as he had ever been. He was not a Nice Guy, he did _not_ have a heart and he didn't give a damn about other people.

None of which explained why the thought that Hermione Granger might perish was a painful vise around the heart he wanted everyone else to believe was still and frozen, but which dared to stutter to life at the most inconvenient of times.

x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x

His chest was on fire. It felt like someone was roasting his heart on a spit, the way he was hurting.

Well, his father had always told him that he'd burn in hell one day. Snape supposed it would be too much to hope for an _Aguamenti_ to cool him down, not to mention, soothe his throat- it throbbed agonizingly.

A staccato beat pounded unsteadily in his ears, reverberating in the most annoying manner. Was this the tuneless rubbish that children were listening to these days? Was he to spend eternity with his eardrums under constant assault by the trash they called music as a warped punishment?

It was with the utmost trepidation that he eventually forced his eyelids open- considering the painful attack upon his other senses, who knew what grim punishment awaited his eyes?

His apprehension was well-founded. Although initially blurry, his vision resolved itself in time to make out the image of Miss Granger bending down to his face, _much too close to his face_, her lips almost on top of his-

"_What_," he rasped, choking a little on that one syllable before stubbornly vocalizing further, "do you think you are _doing?_"

The resulting coughing fit that increased the conflagration attacking his lungs was entirely worth it when he saw terror, surprise, panic and a dozen other dreadfully entertaining emotions chase after one another across her expressive face. Add to that the way she wavered on her heels and then, arms windmilling uselessly, toppled onto her backside…well, he thought this was possibly the most amused he had been in years.

"That was my reaction exactly," said a familiar voice, its scruffy-haired bespectacled owner moving into view, and just like that, his moment of mirth was abruptly terminated. "I thought the stress had gotten to her, but apparently mouth-to-mouth resuscitation really _does_ work miracles."

His eyebrow lifted as he processed that explanation and then his eyes slid closed in resignation. Of course. He couldn't be revived from the brink of death with any more dignity than the method which had sent him to death's door. _A snake's kiss and a Medusa's mouth-to-mouth_. He had a terrible taste in his, but he supposed that was more likely due to the potions bottles scattered around him than any fault with Miss Granger.

Who had been gawking for a full minute before she finally regained the power of speech. "Professor Snape!" she exclaimed with a bewildering amount of joy. "You didn't- I can't believe- you're alive!"

He was about to compose a caustic insult about her wild disarray of hair, as it seemed they were in a contest to state the obvious, but then something struck him. "So is Potter," he said with a slowly dawning horror, ignoring the boy's chagrined protest at his obvious dismay that Potter continued to live. "Which means…the Dark Lord! What happened after-"

"Oh, no," Miss Granger rushed to assure him, figuring out where his thoughts had led him. "It's all right, sir. He has been defeated, our side won!"

"And it only took me _dying_ to make it happen," Potter said with practiced nonchalance. "Speaking of which, I have no idea what people are going to call me now. The Boy-Who-Lived-Twice? The Boy-Who-"

"Just-Won't-Bloody-" Snape began, but then his ravaged throat, which had been complaining all the while at the abuse it had received recently and requesting he treat it gently, took umbrage at his continued mistreatment and promptly gave out on an embarrassing croak.

The fulminating glare he directed at the Boy-Whose-Appellation-Remained-Undetermined was more eloquent. But Potter merely shrugged and looked philosophical. It was unnerving. Apparently the post-victory euphoria had short-circuited his ingrained reaction to Snape's disdain, which was usually to bluster wildly, utter childish insults and scowl as ferociously as he could manage (but with the result resembling a miffed, myopic hedgehog, Snape found it difficult to be disturbed).

Well, that took the fun right out of Potter-baiting. Snape sighed. Fate just delighted in denying him his small pleasures.

While he was lost in regrets, a whispered conversation was taking place above his head and to the right.

"…we can't do that, it's too risky."

"But his health is still awfully precarious. It could mean-"

"I know, but it'd be better to get him to a safe place and bring help to him, rather than the other way around."

"I'm sure St Mungo's is flooded with patients right now, it'll be difficult to do that."

"Look, I'll kidnap someone if need be, but the worst thing would be for Aurors to rush in and lock him up before we can explain…"

Snape was officially baffled. Potter, refusing to pick a fight. Potter, expressing concern that he be kept _safe?_ What had the world come to?

Finally, the two teenagers reached a consensus. Miss Granger leaned over him, "Sir, unless you feel that you're in immediate of expiring on us, in which case we'll take you straight to the hospital, we feel it would be more prudent to take you to-" she hesitated. "- a safe place to recuperate."

He narrowed his eyes. Snape had a sinking feeling he knew exactly where they were taking him, and while it made a great deal of sense- Merlin be praised! Gryffindors actually exercising good judgment!- he was reluctant to set foot in that loathsome man's house. Even if it was now Potter's- not that being Potter's property made the situation any better.

Still, he had no desire to wind up in chains and exiled to Azkaban.

He nodded wearily, apathy descending upon him all of a sudden. Let them do with him as they pleased. He was tired of making choices, or rather, being forced to choose between unpalatable options. Someone else was always directing the course his life took, why buck tradition now?

Besides, part of him still couldn't believe his former students had returned to save his life. They might grow tired of maintaining this charade that his welfare mattered to them and decide to throw his body aside and-

_Hold on. _

The realization struck him with blinding force. His heart rate sped up, that drumming noise from earlier returned to deafening proportions as he grappled with the notion of owing his life to yet another Potter and the know-it-all. Dots filled his vision, almost obscuring the sight of Miss Granger hovering over him, expression filled with dismay, stray strands of her wild hair tickling his chin as she urgently examined him.

Snape lingered in the conscious world for another moment, making sure she wasn't about to pull that mouth-to-mouth stunt again. Then, as she forced a potion to his lips, he surrendered to the darkness, heedless of the frantic cries that implored him to stay.

x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x

A cacophony of panicked voices was audible long before Snape came upon the entrance to the Hospital Wing.

He sighed with irritation. There was no time to coddle concerned friends, even if he had the slightest inclination towards being comforting, which he most emphatically did _not_. For expediency's sake, Snape forcefully threw open the doors with a resounding crash, effectively shocking the roomful of people into silence as they swung around to face him.

"Astonishing as it may seem, hysteria does not appear to be a successful cure for whatever ails Miss Granger," he announced to the room at large with patent sarcasm.

Snape's eyes fell upon the girl in question, lying completely still in bed, looking perfectly well except for her unconscious state. She seemed to be sleeping peacefully, and nothing would appear to be amiss, if not for the distraught looks on everyone's faces, but it was certainly not his task to put their minds at ease. "Potter, Weasley, I suppose I shall be forced to endure your presence. You may continue to hold Miss Granger's hands and agonize over her if you can accomplish this immensely helpful task _quietly_. Everybody else, _get out_."

After quashing the few obligatory protests with a threat to throw them out by force, if necessary- "and rest assured, I will not be gentle"- the room was much less crowded and thankfully, much quieter.

Miss Weasley lingered by the door and he excused her from his curt edict with a brief nod. The youngest Weasley had signed on to be his apprentice in Defense Against the Dark Arts after she graduated (it was a long story, involving Minerva alternately bribing and blackmailing him), so he felt it would be educational for her to remain. Besides, she was eminently more sensible than the two cretins wringing their hands in despair at Miss Granger's beside, and she would be capable of keeping them in line for him as he worked.

"I admire your talent at clearing a room, Severus, but I do hope you will not try to evict me from my own turf?" Poppy Pomfrey emerged from her office, distractedly engaging him in their usual light banter while examining her notes.

"Of course not, Madam," he replied smoothly, crossing to join the nurse in reading through her notes. "Your own formidable talents will be greatly missed should a student enter with some dire complaint, such as a headache or bloody nose."

Poppy huffed indignantly, but the situation was too urgent to trade further witticisms, and at any rate, she was too kind-hearted to bring up the numerous occasions in his youth when he'd been forced to seek professional help for the injuries inflicted by the cruel, creative spells with which the Marauders tormented him.

The two adults conferred over the stricken girl's condition, exchanging thoughts on how to proceed. Miss Weasley added her observations of the spell that was responsible for Miss Granger's state, but as it had been cast non-verbally and out of their sight, it was near impossible to narrow it down.

Even the _effects_ of the spell were difficult to quantify. Miss Granger's case was baffling as there did not appear to be anything to treat; her body was unharmed, she simply would not wake. Poppy had already exhausted most of the conventional methods of rousing her, from _Rennervate_ to the more complicated potions, but to no effect.

"There's only one other option that's open to us, Severus," Poppy said briskly. At his instinctive grimace, she went on in a gentler tone, "I know it's invasive, but until we know what's wrong, it would be irresponsible to resort to any stronger treatments in the hopes of awakening her. They're notoriously volatile and could react unpredictably, making things worse."

"If that is your _expert opinion_..." At her firm nod, he sighed, but conceded her point. "Very well. If there is no other option, I shall enter the girl's mind and assess her condition myself."

x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x

A/N: I had a lot of fun writing from Snape's POV. It's so liberating, sniping at people! No wonder this ended up longer than my first two chapters combined, lol.

And yes, I know Legilimency fics are a cliche, but it's such an interesting area to explore. I'm going to be messing around severely with the accepted notions of Legilimency, so hopefully that brings something new and interesting to the table.


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